Interchanged Fates: Book One
by burnedwillow16
Summary: What if someone else found the egg in the Spine? What if Eragon was an elf? What if Arya was human? What if their fates had been reversed? crappy summary, but I don't know how to explain it. Okay I have now made up my mind. I have written myself into a corner and I can't write out of it. I will be rewriting as much as I need to get out of it. I hope to see you soon everyone. - BW16
1. Chapter 1

Wind howled through the night carrying with it a scent that would change the world. A tall Shade raised his head and sniffed the air.

The Shade softly growled, a hunger tinting his maroon eyes. Hunger for triumph and renown. The king will reward him greatly for this capture and the egg would finally be return to its rightful owner. In his eyes it was a win-win situation for him and the king. His nose sampled the air again, detecting the subtle scent of his targets.

An Urgal shuffled to his side, to his great displeasure, and spoke in its guttural way.

"Lord, we are ready for the ambush."

"Very well, now return to your position. Stop what's coming down that trail…or die." As the Urgal moved away, the Shade curled his nose in disgust, the creatures smelled terrible, like rotten meat. But they were tools and he knew how to use tools. A smile curled his lips as he tested the wind, they were upwind of the three figures to his great pleasure.

He looked around the tree he hid behind, his eyes enhancing the faint moonlight so it seemed like sunshine. He searched for his prey.

A few moments passed before they finally came into view. Three snow white horses, regal and powerful beyond normal limitations. Their pelts like sliver in the light of the moon. But the Shade could care less for the beasts, for his true interest lay in their riders. A single elf sat upon each of the horses, their demeanor was regal as their mounts, and each wore a black cloak concealing their body structure. Their faces were uncovered and held high, like birds.

On the first horse sat a female elf, her face angular and poised. A sword decorated her hip, a bow sat strung along her back. In the final place in line, a male elf sat. An elegant helmet, artistically wrought in gold and amber, sat upon his brow. A long spear rested in his right hand, and a dagger on the same side decorated his belt.

The Shade's focus fell on the elf in the middle of the procession. A male with long hair, black as a raven's feathers, sat on the middle horse. His face held a strange regality, even among elves. He constantly twisted in the saddle, as if reassuring himself that something was there. At a single command, the guards switched places, and they continued onward.

The Shade smiled to himself, a grim twisting of his lips that would have made the Urgals uneasy, had they been able to see in the dim light. The elves continued until the first two in the line passed the first groups of Urgals, and another smile, this one savage and dark spread across his face. His muscles tensed, ready to strike, fingers clenching around the hilt of his sword. Had he been a simple mortal, his knuckles would have broken from the strain. Every muscle in his body coiled, like a fierce predator ready to kill.

Suddenly the wind changed direction, and the Urgals fetid scent washed over the elves and their mounts. The startled horses froze and the elves tensed. A wicked howl rose from the Shades throat,

"Now!" A blast of crimson light illuminated the night air.

The female elf shouted a command, and the tall male shot forward on his horse. Flying ahead of the fray. The Shade watched as the Urgals fell on the elves, their arrows easily piercing their armor. A cry of anguish echoed in the night, and upon seeing the source to be the dark haired male elf at the sight of his companions, he turned and gave chase.

The Shade sat atop a formation of rock, allowing his unobstructed view of the forest. He raised his pale hand and commanded in a strange language.

"Boetq istalri!" A swath of forest burst into flame. The Shade repeated this several times, until he had sectioned a swath of forest over a league across off. The flames eagerly ate at the trunks and branches of the trees, and he surveyed the forest yet again.

A blast of brilliant blue light illuminated the trees for a moment, a pained scream followed and echoed endlessly in the night air. The Shades powerful eyesight allowed him to survey the scene; the elf had blasted three Urgals with the blue light, and the Shade could see the skin and flesh of the Urgals melting away. Lips curling into another wicked smile, the Shade judged the distance to the ground and leapt to the front of the elf. The elf slid to a sudden stop, his features contorted in hatred, black Urgal blood covered his sword's blade. The Shade stretched his hand out towards the elf man, his smile holding nothing but malice. The elf turned to retreat the way he came, only to see the Urgals had closed his escape route.

"Get him," commanded the Shade, and the Urgals surged forward. The elf reached into his pack and withdrew from it a single green colored stone, which reflected the angry orange glow of the flame. His lips formed frantic words and raised the stone above his head. The Shade's eyes widened in panic and he screamed,

"Garjzla!"

A ball of blood colored fire exploded from his outstretched hand, flying faster than an arrow straight at the elf man. But as fast as it was, it was not fast enough, and the stone vanished in a ball of sapphire light. A moment later the fire smashed into the tall slender elf full on in the chest. The elf collapsed as a single long and evil howl ripped through the night air. An oath promising retribution, pain, and never ending sorrow, spoken only in a language he knew, left the lips of the Shade. In anger he flung the sword at a tree, and it buried itself halfway through the trunk. He uttered a single word and nine balls of red light flew through the air, striking the Urgals in their muscled chests and killing them instantly.

He mounted his black warhorse, which he had hidden nearby, and threw the elf over the saddle behind him. He rode to the edge of the flaming ring. Quenching what was in front of him, he left the rest to burn.

**(Ok, now I know what some of you are thinking. That this is too close to the actual chapter to not be plagiarism. I have to tell you that I went purely from memory writing this chapter. Next chapter will be Arya's discovery of the green egg, and I will be changing a lot more of the story. Thank you, and remember feedback is welcome. BW16 †,..,†)**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N: Thank you guys for the reviews, due to the more positive aura of the reviews, I have decided to post this next chapter. It is when Arya finds the egg, which in the actual book would be Eragon. But he's on his way to Gil'ead right now. SOOO….! I think he's a bit too tied up to be getting an egg just yet. Hehe… get it? Tied up? Haha! Anyway, enough of my ramblings! Here is my next chapter!)**

A lumbering castle cast its shadow across the land. Battlements, and towers rise from the enormous walls. A massive gate stretched hundreds of feet high and thousands across. The castle itself sitting on a dull grey field, was so far from any life that not a single living man, woman, or child had ever gone to it. A comfortable silence settled on all that stopped to stare at the colossal structure.

Arya stretched her slender hand to grasp at the smoky cloud, from which the castle had been constructed. Small and wispy, but in her mind huge and substantial. Her fingers closed around the warm, empty, air and she felt strangely saddened by the lack of substance to the smoke. She always felt silly in thinking it so sad, and the smoke was not truly solid anyway. Wishful thinking, she remembered her uncle calling it. She was often prone to it in the shadows of the Spine.

A young girl of average build, Arya was not a stranger to these mountains. Her hands were covered in a network of thin scars, many from the work she did around her uncle's farm. Others came from her frequent forays into the mountain forests that grew around Carvahall. Arya was fond of hunting in the forest, using skills honed from years of practice.

Most would have told Arya to give up the idea of hunting, her being a woman and all that, but her uncle, Garrow, let her. His only condition was that she would hunt for the family, not just for sport. Arya glanced behind her, at her hunting supplies. A simple and worn yew bow sat unstrung in a simple buckskin tube, among her homemade arrows and bowstring. On her belt, sitting in a sheath, was a hunting knife. Boredom filled her head with a leaden weight. She stirred from her resting place, tamped out the fire, grabbed and strung her bow, and headed after the trail of her quarry.

The deer had led her deep into the Spine, further than she had ever been before, and the climate was harsh, freezing during the night, but only slightly cool during the daylight hours. Arya always hunted at night, it was when prey was least suspicious. With her bow in her hands, she tracked the deer in the twilight. Her target was a doe with a twisted leg, and she was surprised that the poor creature was still alive. In a small clearing further ahead, she smiled and knocked an arrow.

Lining up the arrow, she sucked her breath in quietly. Her sight lined with the left flank of the doe and she slightly relaxed her fingers on her bowstring. Suddenly a crashing sound exploded to Arya's right side.

The herd bolted at the explosion and Arya took her arrow, adjusting her aim, she fired at the doe. The slender maple arrow struck the doe in the ribcage, causing it to stumble, emitting a pained sound. Arya ignored the explosion still, and loosed a second arrow, planting this one right between the deer's ribs and piercing vital organs. The deer stopped moving and the final gasps of breath shuddered out of its body. It was only now that Arya investigated the explosion. Keeping an arrow knocked, ready for trouble or danger.

About twenty yards from the clearing where the dead doe now sat, was a patch of forest, burned and destroyed. The tree's needles had been blown off, and they rained down around Arya, filling her nostrils with the scent of burning pine. At the center of this small clearing, was a single stone of the most beautiful green coloration, Arya's bowstring remained taut and the arrow remained trained on the green stone.

The stone seemed to be unnaturally made, concluded Arya, whether by magic or alchemy mattered little. Arya had learned from the stories and fables to treat magic with caution. Allowing it and those who wield it distance.

Several minutes passed before Arya eased the tension off her bowstring, the arrow instead switching to her hand. Using the arrow Arya prodded the stone and stiffened, when nothing happened, she reached out and ran her hand over the stones surface. Astonished at its smoothness, she moved to pick it up and found that upon closer inspection the stone was not purely green. Veins of milky white crisscrossed the surface in no particular pattern. The stone appeared heavier than it was, Arya smiled at her luck. The meat from the doe, and whatever she could afford after trading the stone, would get her family through a significant part of the winter.

Arya slipped the stone into her pouch and returned to the deer. Skinning and cleaning the animal took very little effort on her part, as she had done it dozens of times. She secured the meat into a sort of bundle, and slipped it into the pack on her back. Slowed down by the welcome weight of the meat, and the stone, Arya made her way back to her camp. From there, she made her way back home.

**(A/N continued: I know some of you want me to go through the whole book, while I have to admit that it would be cool, but I think that would be rather close to plagiarism. So I think I am going to write it alternating from Arya's and Eragon's POV. What do you guys think? Oh and P.S.: You guys who think I'll be changing everything to keep it switched, I wont be, but I did receive an interesting concept from one of my readers. That Arya's mother, Islanzadi, will be the former rider. I don't know if I will be, but it's interesting.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: Ok here's the deal. I know I said I was going to alternate, but I can't do that quite yet. It's only been a few days, and Eragon wouldn't have arrived at Gil'ead just yet. The chapter after this one will be when I start going into Eragon's POV. For now here's the egg-hatching chapter! Fírnen will arrive!)**

** Part One: Returning Home**

Arya sighed. Her family's farm sat quiet before her, illuminated by the bright moonlight. A warm grayish smoke curled out of the chimney, and the smell of vegetable soup wafted through the air. Arya's stomach protested loudly to the distance that she had yet to travel, complaining anew the closer she got.

After several minutes, she arrived at the worn wooden door and pushed firmly. The house was a sturdy old building, the wall near the fireplace was hung with freshly dried herbs and vegetables, and a lantern sat on an aged wooden table, highlighting the ridges of the wood. Near a dip in the wall, sat a pile of freshly split wood, ready for the fire. The fireplace blazed brightly, a soup pot hung above the embers, filled with a bubbling broth. Arya's hunger cried for her to go straight to the soup, and she made to do so, when a gruff but warm voice called out.

"Arya? That you?" Arya groaned at being denied food for the time being.

"Yes, Uncle." She turned to see her uncle Garrow walk from his room, a short and lean man. Hungry eyes glanced out from under graying hair, with an intensity that many found unsettling but one that Arya had grown fond of. Arya glanced around the simple home.

"Roran's sleeping," was his answer to her unasked question. Arya moved to the lantern-lit table and began unpacking the meat. Her uncle sat at his chair. Garrow's hungry eyes filled with praise and a smile threatened to stretch across his face at the sight of the meat. When she pulled the stone from her pack, his gaze shifted and it became curious.

"What is that?" at the gleam of the fireplace on the stone, his hungry expression returned and became ravenous, but only for a moment before he calmed himself. "You found this in the Spine?" at Arya's nod he glanced at it, the threatened smile blooming in full, "Then we'll sell it for extra meat when the traders come these next few weeks." Arya nodded.

"Aye uncle, that's why I picked it up in the first place,"

"What was the weather like, Arya?" he asked after several moments.

"Cold," was Arya's reply, a shiver crawled up her back at the memory of the nights before, "although it didn't snow at all, it got colder every night. Just this last one it froze."

Garrow rested his chin in his hand, appearing to be lost in thought, and several minutes passed before he nodded slowly.

"Get some soup child, then take the stone and go to bed. I'll have need of you tomorrow in the fields." He stood from his seat at the worn table. "You and Roran will need to get the squash out, if we can do that, then the frost wont bother us too much."

Arya stood, and fetched a wooden bowl, filling it to the brim with the warm vegetable broth. A smile stretched across her fair face as she turned to Garrow. His curious expression forced her to explain,

"It's good to be back." Garrow's face softened some and he nodded. After eating her full, Arya stumbled to her room, pushed the stone under her bed, and then fell unto the mattress. She inhaled the scent of the feathered mattress, and it was long before sleep took her into its warm and comforting embrace.

_Home._

**Part Two: Hatchling**

Arya woke to the sun's soft rays crawling across her face. She awoke, and with a yawn she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Turning to her wall, she pulled her boots on and slid to the floor. The pine boards creaked under the use, and she smiled at the sound. How sorely she had missed even that small retort to her presence, in the Spine all the ground you find is soft and laden with green moss, or soft grass.

After her mirth had died down, Arya stopped in her doorway and thought for a moment. This was a special day in her history. The day her mother, Selene, had arrived in Carvahall. She arrived, great with child, and sought her brother, asking for lodging. Within five months she had given birth to Arya, shocking everyone when she asked Garrow to take her daughter. She gave no reason and left days later, never to be seen again.

After a heavy sigh, Arya left her room and began to do her chores. She went to feed and water the horses, she chopped a few smaller logs fro the fire, and she had begun picking the first smaller vegetables when Roran walked from the house. He bent beside her and picked some of the squashes, his rough hands in stark contrast to her still relatively soft hands. After they spent the day harvesting the crops, chopping wood, and tending to the various other things Garrow set them to do, they went inside, ate, and went to bed. Arya smiled before sleep took her. There had been meat in the soup tonight.

Such was the pattern of the following days. They eagerly waited the arrival of the trading caravans from further north, or even from down south. It was near a week later, and after a heavy snowfall, that Roran ran from the road, shouting that there had been tracks in the snow. Wheel tracks he said. At this news Garrow's spirits lifted, and Arya knew why: he wanted to get the stone out of the house, so did Roran. She however, was not so eager to get rid of it. It was beautiful, though she was careful to only handle it with gloves, still afraid that it might scorch or burn, or result in some other unnatural phenomenon on contact with skin.

Garrow said that he was going to take Roran with harvest first, then the next day he would take Arya. Arya knew that he would do that anyway, so she sat in her room, staring at the stone on her dresser. When she heard a soft sound. She stood suddenly and looked around, thinking it was an intruder, Arya grabbed the egg and moved to hide it under her bed again, when the sound echoed again in her small room. She turned her head and stared at the green stone. The sound was coming from the stone!

Suddenly the stone shifted in her grasp, falling to the floor. Arya jumped back when a huge crack appeared on the surface of the stone. Se cursed whatever gods watched her and swore a storm. She had ruined the stone because she thought it moved! How stupid could she be?

_Squeak._

Arya froze, turning again to the stone, the crack widened and more spider-webbed out from the central crack. A great resounding _crack_ echoed as half the egg split off. A single form tumbled out, slimy and wet from the fluid that encased it. The creature had scales of the same green of the egg, for egg it was, a long skinny tail, and two small wings. A small head peered up with an intelligence that was unlike anything Arya had ever witnessed in an animal, yet alone a human!

The dragon squeaked one final time and Arya moved to touch it, almost on instinct, and a sharp sensation shot up her spine. Like being dunked in ice water and hot water at the same time. A silvery mark appeared on her palm, a single silver mark appeared on her hand. She blinked once, twice, three times, before it finally sunk in. She was a rider. A dragon had hatched for her. She smiled softly, and fetched a hunk of meat for the dragon. _Her _dragon.

(**A/N: I'm sorry this ended so abruptly, but I couldn't continue it without going into boring and tedious details. The next chapter will be in Eragon's POV. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, if you didn't…too bad! There will be more of course! I will be updating soon.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for your support and overall positive reviews. Well here's the next chapter. It's from Eragon's POV, since he's switched with Arya, the first few chapters of his will be involving torture by Durza. Anyway without further adieu here is the first Eragon chapter! Oh and just so you're wondering the change in title means I am going to rewrite the four books. I'm combining the first two, into book one. And the last two into book two.)**

_O liquid temptress 'neath the azure sky,_

_Your gilded expanse calls me, calls me._

_For I would sail ever on,_

_Were it not for the elven maid,_

_Who calls me, calls me._

_She binds my heart with a lily white tie,_

_Never to be broken, save by the sea,_

_Ever to be torn twixt the trees and the waves._

Eragon recited the verses of the 'Du Silbena Datia' in his mind. Focusing on the effect the beautiful words and melodies had on his being. It helped him ignore the feeling of the worn, hard, leather that tied him to the wooden table. He ran through what he knew about his situation, simultaneously he continued to recite the song in the ancient language to keep his barriers up.

_I have_ _been captured…I have been drugged…I sent the egg to Brom…and I have no idea where I am…_ his mind felt muddled and slow. He it became harder to remember the verses. So he began again, trying, striving to remember.

_O liquid temptress 'neath the _ sky,_

_Your _ expanse calls me, calls me._

_For I would _ ever on,_

_Were it not for the _ maid,_

_Who calls me, _ me._

_She binds my _ with a lily white tie,_

_Never to be broken, save by _ sea,_

_Ever to be torn _ the trees and the waves._

Eragon felt despair fill his heart as he could not remember a few scattered words from the song. This fact proved to him that his concentration was slowly failing.

_The drug is more potent than I first believed… _he was vaguely aware of someone entering his cell, bringing with him a blinding sliver of light. Causing Eragon to close his eyes in defense. The figure, along with the sliver of light, brought with them into the room an aura of dread and evil. Eragon slowly opened his eyes to confront the monster that had captured him. The man stood and smiled, revealing his sharpened teeth. Eragon's voice sounded in the small chamber, using the common tongue of the humans.

"Shade…" The man laughed, his features twisting into a grotesque mockery of mirth and joy.

"Elf," he responded. "do you know why I am here?"

Eragon remained silent, refusing to speak to this monster. Regardless the Shade continued.

"I am here to inquire where the egg you were carrying is currently located. I have been given leave of all mercy, and unless you wish to feel pain such as the likes of mortals have never faced, you will tell me what my king wishes to hear."

The Shade's voice rose and fell in a rhythm that was not unpleasant, but the words fell like stone onto Eragon's soul. The Shade, as if sensing this minute success, pushed on Eragon's mind in a nearly overwhelming assault. The screaming spirits smashed against the barriers of Eragon's mind. He clenched his teeth and recited the song again, and again. At first all the spirits did was pound his barriers, searching for weaknesses and hoping to exploit them. Eragon fought and resisted for every moment of his torment. Secluding himself in the comfort of his mind.

Then the Shade switched tactics, instead trying to lull Eragon into comfort and then striking. This too proved futile as even glimpses of the rolling and beautiful forests of Du Weldenvarden failed to shake the elf's spirit. Enraged the Shade's dark spirits attacked with an almost crippling force, trying in vain to get at Eragon's memories. And still Eragon recited the song in his head. Holding firm against the tempest of the dark shapeless beings striking him from all sides.

Eventually the Shade's mind ceased it oppression of his, ending the psychological torment. The Shade chuckled. The sound sending an unwelcome shiver up Eragon's spine, momentarily his concentration wavered

"Impressive, most impressive." A sneer was evident in his cold voice. "Just as I'd expected from you elf," Eragon struggled to open his eyes, which were heavy from the fatigue that accompanied his resistance. When Eragon finally opened his eyes, a look of pure hatred and disgust fell upon the Shade's face. His maroon eyes narrowed to slits and a sickening smile stretched across his face.

"So you still think you can resist me, elf?" It was now that Eragon noticed the knife gleaming in the Shade's right hand. "Then how about we test whose will is stronger?"

**(A/N: Well here is the first Eragon POV chapter! I had some trouble writing in this POV, so I don't know how I did with this chapter. How is it? Read and review! BW16 •,..,• P.S.: I know this is short, but like I said I had trouble with this.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N: Hello everyone! I know that I have begun the switching of POV. I think it turned out ok, but the main reason I'm doing it is so that I can skip and change parts I don't like. For instance I didn't like the whole Eragon not believing in Dragon Riders, so I made it seem like Arya took Brom's stories to heart. Oh and before any of you ask, Brom will be the former Rider in my version as well.)**

Arya smiled as her uncle and cousin went to trade for seed in town, having sold all their crops in the weeks before, and waved to them before running into the forest, bow in hand. She had been doing a lot of hunting, since the crops have been harvested and the winter chills had begun. They needed the meat to get through the winter, she knew that and she was honestly hunting. But what Garrow and Roran didn't know was that she also had another reason for spiriting away into the woods: her dragon.

She had fashioned a large birdhouse like structure in a group of trees, a mile or so from the farm. It was secluded enough that no one bothered her there and she knew that there was some game in the area. She looked around, more out of a sense of paranoia than anything else, before whistling shrilly. And out of the birdhouse came an emerald head. The dragon uttered an excited squeak and she smiled as it dove out to meet her.

Although for most of her life Arya didn't believe they could return, finding her little green dragon changed that opinion. Arya doted over the creature, never leaving it alone for longer than a few days. She brought the dragon meat from the stores, and she would sit and talk to it for hours, sometimes she fancied it could hear her. She did this for several days. It was on this day, the fifth day of the ritual, she noticed the bones of some wild bird strewn about the shelter she made for it, and smiled, tossing the meat up for it to catch in the air.

"At least you can hunt for yourself little one," she murmured softly. "I hope you know to not attack the bears."

At these words, another string of thought reached her from their shared connection. At first the sensation had unsettled her and scared her, but she could sense the love the creature felt for her across this link. This helped to settle her confusion, but it still disturbed her slightly. She smiled and left the meat for it, and commanded it to stay. She walked back home.

After a few hours of walking around the farm, she smiled wistfully. How curious she was! Soon questions filled her head. How big do dragons get? How fast do they grow? How much do they eat? When would they big enough to ride? Arya stopped in her tracks. _Ride?_

The thought confounded Arya, she hated heights and the thought of flying high as a bird filled her with dread. But she felt a strange compelling urge to try it. She smiled and went about doing more chores around the farm until Roran and Garrow returned from town. Garrow nodded in her direction and went inside. Roran waved and ran over.

"G 'morrow cousin!" he called to her and she replied in kind.

"Good morning Roran, how was your trip to town?" she smiled.

And so went the rest of the day, talking and inquiring about Garrow and Roran's day.

The next day, while Garrow lay sleeping, Arya crept out of the house and ran to her dragon. Though its growth had been explosive, it still barley reached her knee and she went to see it everyday, worry filled the days that she couldn't go see it. As it grew the mental link they shared grew and soon she felt less worry when she couldn't meet it. After nearly a fortnight she had to let it roam free to hunt, and she continued to stress the necessity of it to stay away from the farm and the town.

_Only hunt in the spine._ She'd tell it. _Don't hunt in town._ And while it was hard for her to communicate these ideas to it, she began to realize that images worked better, and so began to use this method to its fullest. She would go into town and listen to Brom's stories more and more, especially the ones about dragons. When Roran needed a chisel fixed in town she offered to go along, and when Roran went to get it fixed she stole away to Brom's house. She knocked and waited for nearly a minute before raising her hand to knock again.

"What do you want girl?" a voice behind her startled her and she spun around. Brom stood behind her leaning on a twisted staff embellished with strange symbols. His graying beard was speckled with silver below a beaked nose. His eyes were deep set and dark. He wore a cloak that hid most of his hair, but Arya knew it to be a silvering color.

"I want to get some questions answered. Roran's getting a tool fixed and I thought I'd spend the day here." The old storyteller shrugged and nodded. Walking past her.

"Then we should get inside, we'll be here a while." He said, and then added in an undertone. "Your blasted questions never end."

After wrestling her way into a chair, and after Brom got a fire lit, they sat facing each other. He handed Arya a cup of tea. For a few silent minutes Brom simply stared into the fire, quietly sipping his tea. Finally Brom sighed and turned to Arya.

"Now, what do you want?" his rough voice was not unfriendly.

"Well," said Arya, anxious to learn, but unsure of how to begin. "I was wondering about Dragon Riders, I mean I've heard stories all my life and the traders in town were speaking of them somewhat," At his Arya noticed a dip appear in Brom's brow, almost of worry. "and I was wondering if there was anything to the stories. I mean everyone seems to want them to return, but I don't know what that would include. What were the Rider's achievements? What made them special besides the dragons?"

"An extensive topic to be sure," grumbled Brom, puffing his pipe. "If I told you the whole story, we'd be here when winter came and went again." The pipe smoke swirled around Arya and she fought the urge to cough. "I'll have to condense it to a mere fraction of the original. Luckily I have my pipe." Another puff wafted through the air. Arya smiled, she may have hated the smoke of his pipe but she liked Brom. He never seemed to care about what she asked, he'd always answer. She once asked him where it was he came from, and he'd laughed loudly.

"A village much like Carvahall, but much less interesting." Arya asked her uncle where it was Brom came from, her curiosity having been peaked. All he tolde her was that he came to town about fifteen year ago and he'd been there ever since.

Brom continued his narrative.

"Now, about the Riders, or the Shur'tugal, as they are called by the elves. Where to start? They spanned countless years and governed countless generations, and before they were destroyed they commanded an area twice the size of the Empire's lands. Numerous stories are told of their greatness, most are nonsense. If you believe everything said about them, you would believe them to be lesser gods. Scholars have devoted their entire lives to attempt to fathom the mysteries of their powers, and to separating the fact from fiction. While it is doubtful that they ever will, it's not impossible for me to tell you the most general facts of them."

Arya smiled slightly and leaned forward, just a little bit, eager for him to continue. And continue he did, long into the day and nearly to the sunset. When he finished, he sat back and smiled warmly.

"Have you any more questions, Arya?" his voice echoed in the confined room. "We have at least a half hour before the sun rest for the night."

Arya sat and contemplated which question to ask, for scores she had, and settled on the one that had gnawed at her mind.

"The Rider's named their dragons, right?"

"That they did," said Brom quietly. "Usually the name came from something dear to the Rider, maybe the name of his mother or father, or the name of an animal, some even were made on the spot. The elves often named theirs after words in the ancient language, but more often they chose it from their own mind. I recall some few of the famous, if you would care to hear them?"

Arya's enthusiasm was not lost on Brom as she nodded. But he seemed not to care as he listed them.

"There was Jura, Hírador, and Fundor-who fought the giant sea snake. Galzra, Briam, Ohen the Strong, Gretiem, Beroan, Roslarb, Valerion, Baelor the Dread, Nagrom the Black, Degrad of the Shining Scales…" He added many more and at the end, he uttered, ever so softly, "…and Fírnen." Brom quietly emptied his pipe. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Arya laughed. "For now," she looked at the sun. "its getting late I should be getting back to Roran, he should be done by now." She started out the door but stopped halfway through. Turning to Brom she smiled and said. "Thank you Brom, very much."

"You're welcome child."

Arya could have sworn she saw tears in the old man's eyes befor she closed the door and ran to find Roran.

**(A/N: Whew! That took a long time to write! Sorry for the delay, school has swamped me! Test this! Test that! What's the reason this happened and why? Ugh! It's so maddening! Anyway Thank you all for reviewing and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I also want to note that while some of the names of the dragons that Brom spouts off are of my own creation, the first nine are infact names from the book. The next two are from Game of Thrones, and the last ones are of my own creation. Thank you for indulging me again, and I hope you read and review. Oh and next Chapter is about Eragon. Ciao minions! Ω,..,Ω)**


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N: Ok here's the next Eragon chapter, this time he's in for a bit more that some mind torture. Poor dude… anyway! Enjoy! ,..,) **

_O _ temptress 'neath the _ sky,_

_Your _ expanse _ me, calls _._

_For _ would _ ever on,_

_Were _ not for the _ maid,_

_Who calls me, _ me._

_She binds my _ with a lily _ tie,_

__ to be broken, save by _ sea,_

_Ever to be torn _ the trees _ the waves._

Eragon awoke in a new cell, this time he was bound to the floor by a heavy chain. He felt terrible, a network of new wounds had been opened on his back, several new ones on his forearms oozed blood onto the floor. They had given him a more powerful drug after the incident yesterday. Eragon shuddered at the memory.

(Dream POV)

_Pain, unimaginable pain, coursed through his veins, nothing he could do could stop it. He felt the worn wood under his chest again and smiled faintly. Little did they know that the familiar feel of this wood calmed his thoughts, making it easier for him to repel their torture. He couldn't use magic to heal himself or attack his tormentors. Every day he was forced to eat and drink, the drug was in the food, water, and coated the knives used by his tormentors, he was sure of it. _

_ Today the Shade had left earlier than normal. He walked past some men, mumbling something about meeting someone, leaving them in charge of the tortures for today. _

_ One of the men advanced towards Eragon, his eyes reflecting the glow of the iron in his hand. The piece of metal was forged in the shape of a wicked clawed hand. A single singeing sound echoed in the camber as the iron was touched to his back. Not a sound escaped Eragon, he had resorted to hiding in the deepest recesses of his mind, filling it with memories that echoed instead of pain through his being. The iron left his flesh and returned to the brazier it came from, and the man busied himself as he waited its reheating._

_ Knives replaced the iron, carving flesh and skin from his body. Their jagged, dull, and rusted edges left ragged wounds. These wounds piled upon each other, creating a network of wounds and scars criss-crossing the entirety of his back. The claws returned when they reheated, and the man had several more brought in for him, adding to the time he could torture with heat and flame._

_ After a few hours, the man seemed to grow bored and gave up with a great huff. Almost like a child would if someone wont play with them. Eragon used this moment, after waiting patiently for sometime, to test his mind for barriers. Surprised flooded his mind as he found none, which was quickly overcome and Eragon used his mind to overwhelm his tormentor. After forcing his way into the man's mind, and freeing himself with his body, Eragon limped forward to the door. Eragon gently opened the door to find the hallway full, of soldiers. In the forefront was the Shade. Beside him were two figures. The one closest to the Shade was a monster to behold. His form was one of considerable height, and breadth. The edges of his shoulders were a full half again of Eragon's and he stood a full head higher than him. A fierce formless mask of steel covered his face. The only openings in the mask were eye slits that revealed cold and fierce eyes the color of blood. Across his back he wore a huge two-handed sword, and a pair of smaller ones. _

_ It was now that Eragon beheld the second companion of the Shade. A woman. This one stood almost a half-foot shorter than Eragon. She stood partially behind the terror of the large man, and wore no weapons. Her pale grey eyes struck Eragon as odd, as he had never seen a human with eyes that shade of grey. Her hair streamed like blood against her pale skin, and ended down by her shoulders. She wore sable clothing, and a short cloak, of the same shade, hid her form from view. On the side of the cloak, emblazoned in red and gold thread, was the emblem of the Empire. While she appeared to be young, she held a fierce expression on her face. She was the first to notice Eragon, and upon seeing him, looked puzzled. Eragon could see no more of the face, as the hulking man stepped between them. A strangled chuckle emanated from the Shade._

_ "Dear me, it seems we've had an escape. Gentlemen," he addressed the soldiers. "take our guests up to the main hall." Turning towards Eragon, all pleasantries retreated from his voice and expression. "I have someone to punish."_

_ Just as the Shade started forward, the hulking man placed a hand on his shoulder, staying him. A soft voice sounded from behind him,_

_ "Show Shaytan the man you need punished, but remember the king's wishes. The elf is not to be killed." The young girl spoke to the Shade in a voice of authority and command. But despite that, she did not acknowledge him in the slightest degree. "Shaytan," at the mention of his name, the tall man turned to the girl. "kill whom the Shade wishes, but do not harm the elf."_

(End Memory POV)

Eragon turned in the cell he now occupied, to the corpse of the man whom he'd controlled. That strange hulking man, Shaytan, had killed him. On the Shade's orders yes, but the manner in which he had been killed was brutal to say the least. Several of the clawed irons had been driven into various points of his body. The first had been through his calves, just above the ankles. The man had screamed and screamed for the gods to save him, but Shaytan had simply ignored the pleas and continued. The next had been in his groin, and two of the twisted spiked hands had been driven here, red hot from the fire. The final three had been driven through his chest and neck. The two in his chest had been pushed so far as to erupt from the man's back. The single claw that sat embedded in his neck was what held the man up, pinned to the wall of Eragon's cell.

After being punished by the Shade and given a stronger dose of the drug, Eragon had been left alone. Hours crept by, and the silence would have driven most mad. Eragon knew that humans were social creatures, having travelled with hundreds in his ferrying of the egg, but elves were much more so. There were so few elves now. Thousands, yes, but so few compared to a century ago, and the remaining elves held family in high regard. Eragon resisted the desire to laugh.

The opening of his cell door, and the clicking of leather boots on the stone floor, interrupted his thoughts as two new presences entered his room. Remaining stoic and silent, Eragon turned to see the strangers from before. The hulking form of Shaytan filled a large part of the small room, the girl stood at his side. She simply stared at Eragon, curiosity colored her face as her grey eyes surveyed his features. He could feel her gaze at it shifted to portions of his body, and a raging burning sensation as she found the yawë tattoo on his shoulder.

She sent a shiver up his spine as she laughed. The sound was like the purest of bells being rung over and over again, mixed with the singing of the most beautiful birds, a sound that could tame any beast in Du Weldenvarden, or the Beor Mountains. It reminded him of an elf's laughter, and his eyes widened.

_Is this…creature…and elf?_ Disbelief surged within him as he dismissed the possibility. The only elves outside Du Weldenvarden were a few of the Forsworn, and to his knowledge none of them had mated or produced children. But there was something in her features, almost too sharp to be human, that led him back to the conclusion again and again. Before anymore could be deduced from his observations she spoke.

"Elf." There was no question in the word, or in her voice. "You are proving a thorn in the side of both the king and Shade." She smiled sweetly. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Eragon gathered his body into a pouncing posture, ready to spring up and fight should she be a new torturer, but she laughed again. Producing the same effect as before.

"Be not disturbed by my presence, I merely deliver a message from the king." She gathered her self and said in a mock masculine voice, " _'Please accept my humblest apologies elf, for I would have come to see you myself. Unfortunately circumstances prevent me. So I have sent the girl before you. Please reveal to her the location of Du Weldenvarden, and the rebel faction known as the Varden. If you refuse, I have left orders with my Shade to increase the suffering you have felt tenfold. You will not be allowed the mercy of death until the locations are revealed.' " _

The girl coughed as she giggled. And laughed, her voice hoarse from the faked voice.

"I hope you will consider his proposal. Durza can be rather nasty when the king allows it."

At the question, Eragon sat back on the floor and studied the cracks and crevices of his cell with greater detail than ever. He remained like this for several minutes before the girls sighed and turned to leave. Shaytan shifted from the door to allow her through first. She turned back to face him and she added in an undertone.

"So you know, we have brought Durza a new method for his torture. Please accept the king's request." At Eragon's continued silence, she scoffed and laughed coldly. "As you wish. Durza!"

The Shade walked into the cell, a cold smile stretching across his face.

"Understood," the girl and her companion departed and the Shade, Durza, laughed coldly. "Hello old friend. Are we still as defiant as before? Are you going to tell me where your people live? No? Fine, have it your way!"

A knife buried itself in Eragon's hand, a blackish liquid dripping off the blade. With his cold smile, Durza whispered words of power and pain laced up Eragon's body from the cut. Eragon withdrew into the confines of his mind and made up his mind to not come out, no matter the pain he endured. He heard Durza chuckle.

"Run and hide all you want, but you will not escape me. I have infected you with Skilna Bragh. I will return to try again tomorrow, tell me the location, or suffer."

With the final statement, Durza left Eragon to his thoughts. He softly and quietly recited the song again.

__ _ temptress 'neath the _ sky,_

_Your _ expanse _ me, _ _._

_For _ would _ ever _,_

_Were _ not for the _ maid,_

_Who _ me, _ me._

_She binds _ _ with a lily _ tie,_

__ _ be broken, save _ _ sea,_

_Ever _ be torn _ _ trees _ the waves._

**(A/N: OMG!** **This took FOREVER to write! I had writers block up the yin-yang with this chapter! Although I think it was worth the pushing and shoving I did against it. I have also introduced my first two OCs: Shaytan and his master, or mistress whichever you prefer. Clarification time! Shaytan is the Arabic word for demon or devil. I still haven't thought of a good name for the girl yet. Any suggestions? If you have a name for me, please send a PM. I will be taking requests until the 20****th****. If I come up with a name beforehand I will notify you in a chapter. Thank you for the reviews! I love all of you guys! Bye Bye for now minions! BW16 ≈,..,≈)**


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N: Hey everybody! I am back, and I know my chapters are kind of coming in at strange intervals. But I have school and other dumb stuff. Man I want spring break, I really need time to just sit down and write! But I have to wait another two weeks! SO NOT FAIR! [sigh] Anyway I bet you guys want the run down of this next chapter, so here you go! Arya, Brom, and Fírnen have left Carvahall and are tracking the Ra'zac after Garrow's death. They are still in the Spine yet and are avoiding the main roads. That's all you get ENJOY!)**

Arya sat quietly, the lower half of her face hidden by the crook of her elbow as her chin rested on her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. She stared intently at the embers of the dying fire, not moving to stoke or to feed it, loosing herself in the glowing patterns and sparks. As if from far away she was aware of Fírnen's mind brushing her own. His deep musical voice echoed as if in a great cave, filling her being with a resounding calm.

_Arya…are you well? _Arya mentally withdrew from him. But only just, she needed his comfort now, more than ever. Nothing Brom could say would change how she felt at the time. Arya never thought that Garrow would die like that, without a fight. In his farm, she couldn't believe that the farm had been burned. Arya felt Fírnen again and this time removed all her measures and his comforting presence washed over her.

Brom returned after a few hours, his arms full of kindling for the fire. His face showed mild concern, but she could see his eyes gave him away. He was worried about her. After a few hours he broke the silence.

"How long have you had your dragon?" his curiosity evident in the way he spoke.

"Fírnen…" was Arya's only response. At Brom's surprise she added. "It's his name. Fírnen, it was the only name you gave me that he liked."

Arya could've sworn that she saw a tear form in the old storyteller's eye but then he blinked it away, a gruff cough sounding from his throat.

"Very well," His voice cracked softly, before he cleared his throat and continued, clearly and loud. "how long have you had Fírnen?"

Arya took a deep steadying breath and began sharing her experiences with Brom. She detailed her finding of the egg, how she raised the dragon, how she realized that she was a Rider, how she went to ask Brom about the dragons and to ask for names, and how Fírnen kidnapped her to save her from the strangers at the farm. She choked up when she mentioned that, and went silent again. There was a long span of time, where neither one talked. They simply sat while Arya dwelled on all that had happened. She felt unwelcome tears spring to her eyes, and she angrily began to rub at them and blink them away. Brom again was the first to break the silence.

"I'm sorry." His face was fixed on hers and his eyes were full of genuine hurt and concern. "For everything that's happened."

"Why would you be?" snapped Arya. She was startled to see him flinch. Then he stood and gruffly snapped back.

"I thought it worthy of apology that your uncle is dead!"

Arya huffed and, upon seeing the darkness creeping through the mountains, turned to lie down in her sleeping skins. Darkness over took her as she pulled them over her face and head. The only intruder on her revere was the great green dragon beside her. Until she began crying again, he said nothing. But when her eyes erupted with tears his voice became concerned and sad.

_Little one… _Arya accepted his presence as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

As she awoke, Arya smelled food, and her stomach announced its annoyance with being ignored. She pushed down her hunger and sat there for some time. She felt like she was falling into a great black pit, so deep it seemed to not have a bottom. She wanted everything to go back to the way they were before, before she found Fírnen, before the strangers came and killed Garrow, before Roran left, before she ever listened to Brom.

_It is useless to wish for what cannot be, little one. _Fírnen's deep melodious voice was comforting, like a part of her. He seemed to become amused by her realization. _That's because we are, you are a part of me, and I am a part of you now. Bonded Rider and Dragon. We are fiercer than anything alive today._

Arya smiled and thanked him, and she rose to see Brom eating a loaf of bread with a wrapped package across his lap. He chuckled at her as she rose to grab something to eat.

"Good," he said around a mouthful of bread. "you're awake, now I can answer some of the myriad of questions you must have." He smiled wryly.

He carefully fingered the package, tracing the form with the tip of his finger. And Arya asked the first question that popped into her head.

"How can you talk to Fírnen?" Brom's smiled faded and he looked at her.

"Any one can be trained to speak with their mind, it's just to what degree that's important. Most can talk to themselves but few who are untrained can speak to animals or other humans. The elves speak in this manor extensively and the Riders of old used it to speak to their dragons."

"Are you a Rider?" the question burst forth without her thinking and she looked down at her feet in shame, ready for the tongue lashing about her interrupting him. But Brom chuckled loudly instead.

"No, but I had a very good teacher who taught me how to speak that way. Though I wont speak to Fírnen anymore than necessary, as it is considered rude for anyone who is not a Rider to speak to a Rider's dragon without permission."

"That didn't stop you earlier." She mumbled. And Brom chuckled again.

"I thought it was appropriate at the time to break the formalities. Now ask another question."

Arya thought for a while before settling on an appropriate one.

"How do you know so much about dragons, elves, and all this?" Brom's face straightened and skewed, as if pondering a terribly complicated riddle, it was a while before he answered.

"Suffice it to know that I was well educated as a young man. And that is all I will say about it." At Arya's words began to rise he held his hand up. "I will offer answers at a later date, but first I must show you this." As he stopped talking he began to unwrap the package. Arya's eyes widened as a sword began to be revealed.

The gold pommel was teardrop shaped with the sides cut away to reveal a ruby the size of a small egg. The hilt was wrapped in silver wire that gleamed like starlight in the morning sun. The sheath was the color of wine and smooth as glass. Adorned solely by a strange black symbol etched into it. The last strip of cloth fell away to reveal a heavy black leather belt, and a silver buckle added the only contrast to the color. Brom looked and, smiling, handed the blade to Arya.

The handle of the blade fit Arya's hand like it was forged specifically for her. She drew the sword; soundlessly it slid from the sheath. The straight blade was an iridescent red and glowed in the combined light of the fire and sun. The keen edges curved gracefully to a fine, sharp, point. A duplicate of the black symbol was etched into the blade near the cross guard. The balance of the blade was perfect; it felt like an extension of her arm, unlike the rough farm tools and bow she was accustomed to. An air of power hung around the blade, accompanied by an aura of unstoppable power. This weapon had been designed and forged for the sole purpose to end men's lives, yet it was terrifyingly beautiful.

"This was once a Rider's blade, Arya." Brom spoke quietly. "Don't ask how I got it, but suffice it to say that it was not without difficulty. When they finished their training, they were presented with their blade by the elves. The methods used to forge them are secrets they jealously guarded, and still do. However, their blades remained eternally sharp and will never stain. They are also nearly indestructible." He cast a look over to Fírnen, "Customarily the blade was supposed to match the color of the Rider's dragon, but I think we can make an exception in this case. The name of the blade is Zar'roc. I don't know what it means, so don't ask." He watched Arya swing the sword, a strange far-away look in his eyes.

"What does the symbol mean?" Arya slid the sword into the sheath. Fierce joy ebbed in her veins at the weight of the weapon in her hands. She would kill the strangers with this sword.

"It was probably the personal crest of the Rider it belonged to." Brom answered simply. "Any more questions?"

Arya again sat, searching for the right question. "Who were those strangers?"

Brom's face darkened and he chuckled darkly.

"They are the king's personal dragon hunters, whenever rumors of dragons or Riders surface, he sends them out."

"Are they human?" Arya interrupted. "They don't move like humans, and they seem more unpleasant than any evil human I've met."

Brom sighed tiredly. "No, no they are not human in the slightest. They are of a dark and twisted race of beings known as Ra'zac. Ancient and powerful, they followed our ancestors from whatever land they came from."

Arya nodded. Fírnen suddenly asked a question.

_What makes them so effective at finding their prey? _Arya repeated the question to Brom, she shivered in his curiosity

"No one really knows. Even all the greatest scholars together couldn't tell you how they track their victims." He sighed, "I'm sorry, you likely know more about the subject than I, Arya. The only concrete thing I know about them is although they live longer than us, they are mortal. Does that put your mind at ease?"

She nodded, at least comfortable in the knowledge that they can be killed.

Suddenly Brom stood, leaning on his staff.

"Arya, we're going to have to leave the Spine tomorrow. The Ra'zac have a several day head start on us. If we intend to kill them, we would do well to leave the mountains so that we may track them effectively." He stamped out the fire as he said this and motioned for her to collect her things into a bundle, which he then tied to Fírnen's back. Brom sighed and turned to Arya,

"Do you think you could fly again soon?" Arya stiffened at his question and shook her head slowly. Ashamed. "Ah…your wounds. You were flying weren't you?"

_How does he know all this?_ She asked Fírnen_. Normal people wouldn't have knowledge of this kind of thing!_

_ Ah…but he is not a normal human. _He responded. _How else would he have the ability to speak to me _and _have a Rider's blade? I think there is more to Brom than we both know, perhaps more than anyone knows._

Arya nodded and smiled to Brom, whose confusion she found amusing to say the least.

**(A/N: I have finished a new chapter…but this one did not turn out as well as I'd thought. So I think that maybe I should skip their travelling and go straight to the Teirm stuff. Then skip their travelling to go straight to Dras-Leona. Any feedback? Please? Oh and I have come up with a name for my female OC: Selene. [French for "moon"] any who! Please tell me what you think about skipping the travelling parts! Next chapter will be Eragon again. And in the words of one of the most lovable characters ever, TTFN! Ta Ta For Now! PS: first reviewer who can tell me who says that will get a character named after them! PEACE! †,..,†)**


	8. Chapter 8

**(A/N: Hey everyone! Spring Break is almost here and I'm rearing to write, write, write! So here you go everyone! Chapter 8 of my story is here! Yes, its in Eragon's POV. If you want some reference points, this is about when Arya and Brom would be first arriving in Teirm. Arya will have gotten her fortune read by Angela.)**

_Eragon sat in a small mountain glen, fringed in by a thick grove of trees. His lungs filled with the crisp cool air with every inhalation of breath. In the center of the glen sat a river, pure and clean, which bubbled cheerfully. Confused he looked around, delighting in a slow breeze that crossed the little clearing. His body had been clothed in the garb of the elves._

_ He turned to the forest, and smiled running to the shelter of the trees. He let go of all inhibitions, his mind clouded by joy. Laughter erupted from his throat and he ran on and on trough the little grove of trees. He climbed trees and jumped from branch to branch, swinging from tree to tree. As his strength, which was far more than humans, began to wane he sat against a tree resting in the cooling shade. Then as he closed his eyes to sleep, a single note rang through the air. A musical note of laughter, crisp and clear as the water in the river._

_ Curiosity peaked; Eragon turned in the direction of the sound, and took off back towards the clearing, noticing for the first time a rise of rock in the center. On the rock sat a woman. Her hair shone like spun shadow, her skin like warm honey. The shadowy black hair hung loosely down her back, ending abruptly near her waist. Eragon felt his heart lurch as she turned to face him. A small slightly heart-shaped face, and pale almond-shaped eyes filled with worry. Upon her brow, sat a circlet of the finest silver. Moonstones, polished to shine like stars, adorned the circlet. This accented her eyes, similarly star like in the sunlight. He made to move towards her, and tripped on a hidden rock in the grass. The soft peal of her laughter erupted forth. His heart felt like it was splitting as she looked down to him._

_ "Eragon…" her voice sending shivers down his spine, evoking memories in him. The memory of spice on the wind, of tall unyielding oaks, and of smiles that put the sun to shame. He looked into her eyes and opened his mouth to speak._

_ "Don't speak Eragon." She cut him off. "You don't need to speak." She knelt down and cupped his cheek in her hand, a smile that put the above sun to shame stretched across her face. She pressed her hand firmer against his cheek. He was shocked to feel it slightly go through him, and jumped a bit. She smiled again._

_ "My dear sweet Eragon…what have they done to you?" Tears misted over her eyes, as she saw the scars and wounds upon his body. She began to weep silently_

_ He reached up to touch her but his hand went straight through her and she faded away. He closed his eyes, only to have them open to find the wall of his cell. He could hear her voice slightly echoing in his half dream state._

_ "Atra du evarínya ono varda…Eragon…"_

(End of dream POV)

Eragon wiped his own tears away and smiled. _Of all the times my dreams could've touched the spirit world…_

Leather-bound feet clacked on the floor outside his cell door. Eragon didn't so much as flinch as the heavy iron door was drawn back to reveal Durza, clad in his customary sable clothing and deep red cape. His long red crimson hair flowed freely behind him. His usually calm demeanor shrouded by anger, pure unadulterated anger. His pale, slightly transparent, countenance swirled with the agitated shadows beneath it.

"Get him on his feet!" he shouted to the seven soldiers he had brought with him, who immediately sprang into action and seized Eragon in their hands and dragged him towards Durza, with a ferocity that had thus far not been witnessed. Eragon looked up slightly, which earned him a strong slap from Durza. "Do not look at me filth!" he screamed. It was now that Eragon realized what had colored the Shade's voice: fear. Eragon felt a scared shiver crawl up his spine.

_What could make this creature afraid?_ He wondered afraid himself at the answers.

The answer came not a moment later.

"The king is arriving in a month's time, he believes my methods are not sufficient. Too _crude_." The last word came out as a sound like a snake hissing.

Eragon winced at the sound, afraid of what it meant for him. As if to answer the question Durza scowled.

"You are the cause of this! He's angered because of _your_ stupidity! ANSWER ME!" He screeched the last two words. Magic erupted from his hands and slammed Eragon into the wall of his cell, breaking several bones. Eragon coughed blood when he went to breathe. "ANSWER!"

Still silence permeated the chamber. Infuriated Durza screamed and raved at his soldiers to bind and gag Eragon. After complying they bore him from the room, and into the torture chambers.

"Leave us," the now whispered words scared Eragon. He knew full well what the Shade was capable of, and shuddered at the thoughts. He was well justified.

Eragon lost track of all time as the Shade tormented him mercilessly. Pressing him to the brink of death and insanity several times in the next few days. The Shade needed no food, drink, or sleep, and this showed in his untiring and unceasing punishment he was undergoing. Eragon suddenly felt a new sensation in his mind. Acceptance. Eragon was accepting the power the Shade was wielding and felt him self slowly giving into it. He tried reciting the song again.

__ _ temptress 'neath the _ sky,_

__ _ _ _ _, _ _._

__ _ _ _ ever _,_

__ _ _ _ the _ maid,_

__ _ _, _ _._

_She binds _ _ _ _ _ _ _,_

__ _ _ broken, _ _ _ _,_

__ _ _ torn _ _ trees _ _ _._

Eragon despaired, knowing that the song was what allowed him to cling to sanity. He recited it again, relived when no more gaps appeared in his memory of the song. When the Shade was finally done, Eragon's exhaustion was all oppressing. Despite this barrier to his rational thought, he found the words he remembered to be a strange combination.

__ _ temptress 'neath the _ sky,_

__ _ _ _ _, _ _._

__ _ _ _ ever _,_

__ _ _ _ the _ maid,_

__ _ _, _ _._

_She binds _ _ _ _ _ _ _,_

__ _ _ broken, _ _ _ _,_

__ _ _ torn _ _ trees _ _ _._

He smiled and closed his eyes in mock sleep. Content in his memories and the solitude of his mind. He continued to puzzle the words out for hours after his initial discovery. Again he chuckled to himself.

_A strange arrangement indeed…_

**(A/N: Okay…this one also didn't turn out the way I wanted it too…I think it could have been better, but I'm sticking with it. I needed **_some _**filler in my story after all. Next chapter will be when Ayra first dreams about Eragon, and then…well…wait and see! I love you! All of you guys who review and all of you boys and girls out there who think my story worth looking at. Although I am kind of disappointed that no one has guessed our friend who's quote I will now repeat. TTFN! Ta Ta For Now! Seriously, even if it's just a guess I want some answers! :) Stay faithful Minions! ∆,..,∆)**


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N: Hey everyone it's me again! Burnedwillow16! Please continue reading and leaving me those little delightful morsels that you call reviews, I eat them up! OM NOM NOM NOM NOM! Okay time for a run-down for this chapter: I decided to skip Arya's dream and go to the part when she tells Brom. There has been no Urgal chasing done by Brom, and they are still a ways from Dras Leona. Closer to Gil'ead.)**

"And you're sure you weren't dreaming?" Brom asked for the third time now.

"Yes," Arya sighed, answering his questions for the third time. "I'm sure of what I saw, Brom. Why are you so fervently against believing that?"

Brom averted his eyes for a moment before he spoke, slowly, but methodically. "I represent the interests of a group, a secret group that-"

"The Varden?" Arya asked. Then explained, "I heard you and Jeod talking."

Brom scowled, annoyance laced in his words as he spoke.

"Did you now? I'll have to remember to lace every room I speak in with counter spells to repel your attempts. But to continue in my explanation, I represent the Varden in its entirety. Its goals, its values, and its leadership all fall within my circle of judgment." He sighed and continued. "But more to the point, the way you described the man…how did you describe him again?"

Arya blinked twice, "I didn't describe him. You never asked."

"I'm asking now!" He retorted, "Now tell me!"

"He was pale, very pale. His eyes were an intense almost burning brown, his face angular and regal looking. His hair was raven black and fell to the middle of his back, which was crossed with hundreds of wounds. His body was lean, muscled, and on his shoulder…" Arya paused here, unsure of how to continue. "and on his shoulder he bore a tattoo. A weird twisting shape and in very deep blue ink. Like the one on your ring."

Brom's eyes went wide for a second, and turned away. A dark brooding look crossed his eyes. Arya picked up on his subtle display. And she immediately began questioning him,

"Who is it? Is he important?" Her enthusiasm evident and Fírnen's curiosity merely fed into her own. Arya could tell that similar questions were being exchanged between the two of them. He jumped up from his seat and snapped at the two.

"Always with the questions, question this! Question that! Can you learn to take things at face value like the rest of the bloody stupid world?" His anger continued for several minutes, but was mostly his venting annoyance at being constantly questioned by Arya. After nearly half and hour he quieted down and faced them, as if expecting a response. Arya remained silent, afraid to upset the old man. It was Fírnen who broke the silence.

_Brom, if you will not answer who he is or if he is or is not important, then please answer this: do you know him?_ Arya scowled, she hadn't thought to ask that first, although she didn't expect an answer at all, and so was surprised when Brom offered one.

"I do." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know of him, anyway. If he bore the Yawë tattoo than he can be non other than Eragon." Arya noticed Fírnen flinch at hearing the name, and was about to ask who he was, when Brom turned to her and answered. "He was the one who bore Fírnen's egg for nearly twenty years between the Varden and elves, in hopes that the egg hatched for one of the children in these factions. If he's been captured, the Varden should have sent a missive to me notifying me of…" his eyes went wide and he swore loudly. "That's how the Ra'zac knew I was in Carvahall, they must have intercepted the messenger! Arya, do you know where he was being held?!"

Arya strove to remember but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't.

"I'm sorry Brom, I'm afraid I can't remember any details that would help." She looked up from her feet expecting to see his scowl, but was shocked to see him almost crying. He smiled at her and placed his hand upon her shoulder.

"I didn't mean to ask, of course you wouldn't. Even if it weren't a dream, you wouldn't know any cities outside those we've been to. I apologize Arya." He let her shoulder go and smiled again, sadly. "Now you said he was in a cell?" Arya nodded, "And that it was unlit except by the moonlight correct?" Again Arya nodded in quiet affirmation. Brom stroked his beard in thought. "Hmm… most lager cities have prisons, but if it is Eragon. He'd have only been far from protection if he were taken, which leaves only to discern his route." He then produced from a saddlebag on Snowfire, a map of Alagaesia, but so much larger than Arya had ever seen before, this map showed the lands beyond the Empire. Including into the deep forest of Du Weldenvarden, the home of the elves Brom explained.

He pointed at two different places, indicating what route he believed Eragon would take between the Varden and elves. He finally pointed at Gil'ead, the western most of the cities in the northern Imperial lands.

"Here…" he mumbled. "If I'm correct, and I usually am with these things, he should be in Gil'ead's prison."

Arya was dumbfounded. How could the old man have figured all that out? She didn't even know how to read before Tierm, and yet this old man, Brom, had found out where a man he'd never met was being held by the kings army! She stood gaping at him, her eyes wide with wonder. At her look Brom shrugged,

"An easy enough skill, if you're properly trained, _when_ you're properly trained I should say." He smiled and took the wine once more, filling a bowl to the brim instead, and whispered the words.

"Draumr kópa,"

The wine took on an appearance of the blackest night, before it swirled into the image of a man. The man in Arya's dream! His position had changed somewhat however as he was tied to a table, in a circular room, his back was facing them, and was crossed by even fresher wounds. Arya winced at the sight, as she had when he appeared in her dream. Brom released.

"Forgive me child, but we must abandon our hunt for the Ra'zac. I'm sorry. But we must."

Arya was ready to argue when Fírnen interrupted her.

_Little one, we must do as Brom does. The young follow the wise after all, and we know where the lair of the Ra'zac is. We can return and kill them at a later date._

_ When? When the Varden defeat the king? When the Riders are resurrected? Perhaps maybe when sheep fly and hunt dragons?_

Fírnen chuckled deep in his throat.

_An amusing notion to be sure, but Arya I implore you. Heed Brom and abandon this crusade for now. Follow him Arya, I will. I may not truly remember, but Eragon used to speak to me. The memories are muffled and fuzzy, but they're there. I wish to help him, if I can. _

Arya instantly began an argument back, as to why the Ra'zac needed to be stopped before all else, and as she ranted it at Fírnen and Brom, she began to realize the error of her thinking. Eragon was more important to the Varden's cause than the death of the Ra'zac. If, like Brom said, this Eragon knew where the elves secret cities were, than of course it would make sense to save him. Arya scowled, she hated being wrong, and she hated admitting it even more so.

After nearly an hour of debating, she agreed.

"Brom, lets go find him. If he's that important than we should-"

Arya was cut off when Fírnen snarled deeply and looked over her shoulder, his nostrils flared and his tongue darting in and out like a serpents. Brom stiffened up as well, his shoulders squared and his hand resting on his sword. Broms words were echoed in Arya's head by Fírnen.

_We're not alone._

**(A/N: Sorry everyone for the delay! I meant to get two maybe three chapters up by the end of Spring Break, but I just got so busy with everything I totally spaced! Anyway this chapter was a little shorter because I again suffered from the dreaded writer's block. But anyway my contest has now officially ended. No one was able to guess it was Tigger! Come on guys! Tigger's awesome! Anyway, next chapter will be when I introduce Murtagh. See ya then!)**


	10. Chapter 10

**(A/N: Kinda realized that a cliffhanger wasn't even plausible if I skip to Eragon it wouldn't make sense. I just had no idea how to continue it further. Well, until now that is. Here's the continuation of the last chapter, instead of an Eragon POV. I'm sorry, I kind of lied, no Murtagh yet. More OC's. Next chapter though I promise! Enjoy!)**

Arya gathered her muscles into a bundle, her every sense alert for danger. Zar'roc slid soundlessly from its sheathe the wine red blade gleamed in the ruddy morning sunlight. Sending blood-red specks of light against the rich emerald of Fírnen's scales, Brom's face was set in a calm mask. Betraying not a single thought or emotion.

A few yards away Arya heard another rustling, a shuffling sound. The snap of a breaking branch. The cry of a far off bird. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a flicker of movement, a low drumming sound filled her ears. Frantically she searched for the source of the sound, seeing that neither Brom nor Fírnen reacted to the drum, she panicked and almost charged into the woods. She realized then that the drumming was her heart, and tried to relax.

Before she could however, a few softly spoken words broke the stillness of the air, quiet as the wind. Brom suddenly relaxed his face, his body remaining tense and ready to fight. Again the words echoed in the air, this time a bit louder. It was the ancient language, she realized, although she wasn't sure to be relieved or even more frightened by the realization.

Arya could only make out every other word or so, but it sounded like a hesitant greeting. Which Brom responded to fervently.

"I am a friend. Brom is my name and-"

It was then the words changed and rose in volume and a new emotion colored them, anger. Seemingly instants later, Arya couldn't speak and she fell, wrapped in what felt like ropes, but when she looked down she saw none. She looked up to see Fírnen similarly bound in place. His eyes wide in fear and confusion. She reached out for him with her mind, only to be met with pain so severe she would have screamed had she been able too.

"NO!" Brom's voice cut through the air, Arya's eyes peeled open slowly and surprise struck her full on as she saw the old man was completely unaffected by the force holding her and Fírnen in place. Although his eyes were concerned.

"What are you doing? Show yourself craven!" he shouted. "This is Arya, the last free human Rider! And this is her dragon! They mean you no harm!"

Softer chanting answered him as the unknown persons wove spells into the air. Finally Brom shouted, still in the ancient language, "I am Brom, friend to you!"

The whisper soft words ceased and the air fell silent, the pressure lessened around Arya but didn't disperse completely. Words seemed to continue echoing off the trees as the spells hung in the air. A soft voice wafted on the breeze, a sound like the bubbling of a mountain creek, it was so melodious that Arya couldn't tell if the owner was man or woman. Brom repeated himself

"I am Brom, friend to you!"

The owner of the voice spoke more clearly now.

"Well met Brom," another sound joined the voice, laughter. The sound of it sent chills up the length of Arya's spine. She opened her eyes, and gasped. Four strangers were sitting in front of Brom, all were wearing dark cloaks which covered them down to their feet. Hoods had been pulled over their heads to hide their faces. Each of their frames was so slight that she still could not tell which ones were men or women. One had a short sword tapered to their belt, another a set of bow and arrows, and the third carried a spear. The final one, the smallest in stature and frame, carried no seen weapons.

Arya heard a growling sound and turned to see that beside one of them sat an enormous wolf, it's blue-black fur rippling softly in the sunlight and its haunches had been raised.

Intelligent grey eyes peered at her as she felt a slight probe touch her mind. Arya reacted instinctually and closed everything off from the probe, focusing on an image of Zar'roc. The wolf's growls became whimpers as he nudged the hand of the closest person, the one with the spear, and their hand moved to pat the wolf's head.

One of the strangers, the one with the sword, walked forward and removed their hood. A strong and regal face was illuminated, with brilliant silver eyes, which peered around at everything. The eyes fell to Arya's and then slid over to Fírnen, the person smiled ruefully and turned back to their companions nodding slightly. Instantly the pressure holding her disappeared and she fell straight, her bones and muscles aching from the position she held. She stood agape,

_Did they just use magic without speaking? _She asked Fírnen through their newly restored link. _I thought you had to speak in the ancient language to cast magic._

_Not all the time it seems… _The dragon's amber eyes surveyed the strangers, all of whom had removed their hoods by now. _They're not human._

Startled, Arya turned to look again. She still couldn't safely tell which were male or female, but she could see their features very well. Before she could try to dissern their genders on her own, the first person laughed. As they did, the hair fell back revealing ears that tapered to points.

_Elves! _She cried out to Fírnen. _They're elves!_

"Greetings Brom." they twisted their left hand over their breast and gestured to Brom, who repeated the sign. "My name is Thürin."

Thürin had long hair the color of night, and eyes of liquid silver. A scar discolored his (for male he was) otherwise blemish-free face.

Brom laughed, a strange sounding timbre colored it. "And whom else have I the pleasure of meeting?"

"My companions are named as thus," Thürin smiled.

First he pointed to the one with the bow. The elf had medium length starry hair, her eyes were the color of fresh snow, although the eyes were different in another way, they were almost aquiline in appearance, like an eagle's.

"She is known as Telrúnya, she," pointing to the tall elf with the spear, who had black colored hair, her eyes the color of new pine needles. "is named Melriel."

At the mention of the name, the large wolf moved forward and nuzzled gently against the aforementioned elf's arm. Thürin smiled and laughed.

Finally he turned to the one remaining elf, which after a few seconds nodded. Thürin nodded back and smiled.

"And this is Calón. We are well-met humans." His smile revealed slightly pointed teeth, almost like the teeth of a dog. Arya shivered. Brom looked him over and chuckled gruffly.

"How long were you following us?"

"Long enough," came the reply, but not from Thürin. Melriel had stepped forward, the large wolf with her, and she nodded towards Fírnen, "Thiebel found your scent days ago, mighty dragon. You aren't that hard to follow." Fírnen shifted uncomfortably under the elves watchful gaze, and Arya mentally flinched. Fírnen never backed down from someone's gaze!

Brom spoke slowly, cautiously. "Why reveal yourself now?"

A look of shear pain entered Thürin's eyes, but it was gone so fast that Arya was sure it wasn't there. He leaned in towards Brom and he whispered some words to Brom, so quietly that Arya couldn't understand him. Brom nodded slowly and responded equally as quiet. The elf nodded and smiling said a command in the ancient language to his companions, the gathered elves relaxed visually, all except Calón, who never seemed anxious in the slightest, he always seemed relaxed.

Brom and her packed up camp, the elves brought their packs and Arya realized that the four would travel with them. Upon questioning Brom why, he replied.

"They seek the selfsame man as we, make allowances with them child. Many of them are young among elves and only Thürin has ever seen a human in person. The queen of all elves sent them, but I regret to say, that I cannot reveal more than that. I swore to her majesty herself to never reveal more than what I've said to anyone without her express permission."

At that the group began the long journey to Gil'ead, travelling at night, and resting in the day.

Arya silently sulked at the loss of her vengeance. However, she took to asking the elves about their homeland to distract herself.

The only one willing to speak to her was the woman with the large wolf. Melriel, Arya remembered. And she only ever said,

"It's not my place to say for the others, and I do not wish to tell you about myself."

On the fifth night of their journey, the other elf woman (Arya couldn't remember her name) began singing. With a jolt she noticed it was in the ancient language. The sound of it sent shivers down Arya's spine. After the song Brom, upon noticing her confusion, translated for her.

_High up above us, where all the hawks circle the mountain, riding the wind floating on updrafts and searching for prey. I think I saw them today. I climbed up higher than I've ever been and walked through the rubble, the smock and decay. Up where the sky is not auburn but blue. I'd like to go there with you. _  
Arya found herself committing every word to heart and she asked the elf woman, Telrúnya, to teach her the words. She seemed amused by the notion but conceded, and for the next four days she learned the language and customs of the elves of Alegaesia.  
On the tenth day, Fírnen informed her that he could make a town out, after telling Brom, the old man smiled.

"Gil'ead…" he sighed, "Were that I could never see it again."  
That night they made camp in silence and formulated a plan on how to save Eragon.

**(A/N: Sorry this ends abruptly and sorry this has the random bonding with elves thing, but I didn't want to spend an entire other chapter explaining the elves and how they look and act. Sorry! Anyway, next chapter we're introduced to Murtagh and they save Eragon. Or do they? Is this all really only Arya's dream? Find out in the next chapter! With love-BW16)**


	11. Chapter 11

**(A/N: If anyone has questions, I'll be happy to answer them, send me a PM!)**

Eragon tested the air cautiously, with his nostrils open as wide as they could go. It had been nearly three days since the Shade had been in to see him, and he released a quiet sigh of relief. He did not know if the girl and her monstrous protector were still in the city, for city he had determined it was, and this made him uneasy. Although he knew very little about anything in the state he was in.

If she were sent by Galbatorix, she should have been much more forceful, or involved in his torture, but she had not even witness anything but the aftereffects of Durza's hospitality. All he could think about was her eyes, such a strange calming color, and it filled his being with peace and calm whenever his thoughts turned to them, which was often. He closed his eyes as he heard footsteps walking down the hall, towards his cell.

_Have you finally grown spine enough to try again, my enemy? _Thinking not of Durza himself, rather he thought of what Durza represented; corruption, hatred, loathing, agony, shadow, evil incarnate, and he was put to shame in all these areas by the Black King himself. And yet the Black King had sent a child, a little girl, to rip his knowledge from him. _That child…what dark and twisted secret could she be hiding? To succeed enough to be trusted with my knowledge…who is she?_

The soft footsteps ceased outside his cell door. The causer of the footfalls simply giggled at an unknown joke, and Eragon's skin crawled across his body. His eyes widened and his breath froze in his throat.

_It's her! _His mind began to race, his heart thundered in his chest almost bursting forth from beneath his ribs. His lungs contracted and flexed to bring more air into them. Inside he was raging, outwardly he seemed in a deep sleep or coma, like he had been for the last several days.

Creaking on heavily rusted iron hinges his cell door swung open, flooding the dark room with ruddy firelight from the torches in sconces along the walls. A shadow passed into his cell, a specter of a thought pressed against his mind, but did nothing more, even as he instinctually shut them out.

Expecting the soft creepy voice of the young girl, he was caught off guard by the richly deep voice of a young man, layered with a soft accent. The deep voice echoed off Eragon's small cell, filling the tight space with a warm contrasting tone. Comforting words, seemingly across a vast distance, echoed through Eragon's mind.

For a few moments Eragon felt almost safe listening to the voice, until a new one joined the man, the voice of a woman. Eragon shivered.

"Selene," he heard the man say, "what are you doing here?"

For a few moments it was quiet, Selene seemed to be processing the scene before her.

"The month is coming to its end, Murtagh, we're leaving." Unlike her rare visits to Eragon, this tone seemed clipped and commanding. "Your curiosity will have to wait until the journey to Urû`baen."

"But would it not be more effective if _I_ were allowed to interrogate him?" a soft sound colored his tone now, almost like a whining child. "The king wouldn't even need to break him, but instead I'm reduced to taking orders from a Shade. Galbatorix truly has no respect for the station he has appointed me."

After a sigh, and a small sound, the man named Murtagh chuckled.

"Very well," his tone changed to a more confident and chilling volume. "We will of course need to prepare, I hardly believe they're quite ready for the trip."

"Of course." Selene agreed. "Come, Durza will see to his transportation."

"And what of Shaytan? What shall he do?" A chuckle again colored his voice, "We both know the man wouldn't breathe without your command."

"He will remain here until Durza transports the elf to the king." Selene responded in quick cutting tones.

"Very well," he repeated. This time the silence went unbroken, except by their boots clacking on the the ston steps near his cell.

Eragon was left alone, fearing the return of the Shade, he had prepared in every way he could to confront and fight him. He cared little that it would mean his death, and that he would never see Du Weldenvarden again. He only cared that he should die. So that the other elves may exist in peace for just a few more years.

After what seemed like a few hours, though they passed as slowly as weeks, Eragon fell into his dreams again.

_(Short Dream POV)_

_ Again he found himself in the little mountain glen, the bubbling creek echoing against the lonely trees. The grass swayed in an unseen wind. And laughter again filled the air with life._

_ He spotted the source of the laughs and ran towards her. Before he had gotten within a few yards of her she turned to him, her eyes filled with hope._

_ "Eragon…my dear Eragon…you are nearly free." She closed the remaining distance as she said this and cupped his cheek in her hand, "Hold for a just a little while longer. Eragon…"_

_ His name came whisper soft and he knew why, she had leaned against him. Burying her face into his chest, muffling her cries._

_ As Eragon reached out to touch her, to comfort her, he heard a booming crash._

_ As always, he opened his eyes to the cell walls._

_(End Short Dream POV)_

Eragon heard loud crashing and a constant _thud_. Seeming alive, the fortress he resided in shifted under an enormous strain. The very stone in the walls groaned in agony as the weight pressed down further, and the glass of the window cracked as the frame compressed down. He could hear men shouting and screaming, he heard soldiers shouting orders, he heard bowstrings thudding and he heard arrows flying.

He heard then a loud shrieking sound.

_No._ He thought. _A roar._

The fortress shook once again and a deep resounding boom echoed again, this time Eragon could've sworn he heard it outside his cell. Without even trying, he slipped into his coma state. Determined to bide his time and wait.

**Arya**

Arya watched in both horror and pride how quickly Fírnen dispatched the men on the roof and battlements of the castle. Brom and the elves stood around her. Forming a type of shield as they all fought, Arya brought her sword down on the collarbone of one soldier. Zar'roc clove through the man's torso, and she slid it out with a sickening sound. Then she spun around to block another's attack, carrying through with the swing to decapitate the soldier.

Arya had guessed at Brom's fighting capabilities, having sparred with him extensively, but nothing prepared her for the way he fought for real. He danced around his opponents, never fighting more than one or two at a time, he dashed through their weaknesses, cutting them down mercilessly.

The elves were graceful, and like their weapons they were slim and deadly. They danced across the streets of Gil'ead, jumping around and striking out against the soldiers, which fell like flies to their blows. Arya witnessed the elves make incredible acrobatic actions. She witnessed Telrúnya jumping backwards to avoid a mace blow, only to land on top of a building and throw a knife that struck the soldier in the left eye socket.

Brom lead her to the entrance of the castle, and he told her to go. Find Eragon and return to him in one piece. She ran down to the dark passages of the castle.

She spied a solider as she entered and tried to remain unseen. She moved along the wall, keeping her hand to it at all times. Unfortunately she knocked over a discarder sword, and the soldier turned to her, grabbing for his sword. She tried moving backwards but something forced her to remain, she felt a familiar pull…

_Magic! _

The soldier ran now screaming at her. And then his eyes went wide, his jaw slacked, and his face twisted into a pained grimace for a moment before slacking completely. Arya heard a sickening crunch as a sword protruded from the man's chest right below the heart. She heard a whispered word and the magic stopped affecting her, it was then she saw her savior.

A tall man wearing a dark suit of armor stood behind the solider, his long dark brown and grey eyes reflected the torchlight. A slender hand-and-a-half sword was in his right hand, a silver wired war horn hung from his belt beside a plethora of knives.

The sword in his hand was wrenched from the dead man's back with another sickening crunch, crimson liquid dripped down the fuller in the center of the blade. Arya looked into the stranger's eyes and felt paralyzed with fear. His eyes held not one emotion, only a strange curiosity that made her shiver despite her paralysis.

"Greetings," his voice was rich, a strange accent colored it, and it put her mind at ease for a moment before he held his free left hand out to stroke her cheek. "who are you? What are you doing in the lord commander's castle? Are you a servant, little one?"

Arya shivered as the nickname that Fírnen had given her was used but this unknowing stranger. She opened her mouth to answer, when a deafening sound echoed in the very stones of the keep. It sounded so much like Fírnen…

"Ah." The man sighed. "Go be gone with you, flee the city before you…" his eyes caught the firelight sparkling off Zar'roc's deadly length, and hardened until only one single emotion colored them: hatred. "On second thought…I believe we'll be seeing each other again soon…" He quickly composed himself again and smiled pleasantly. Exiting the keep through the door she had entered through.

Arya sat confused for what seemed like hours before his presence truly left the room and she was able to move. She did not know who he was, but Brom would probably have killed him by the time Arya completed her mission.

Methodically she began to search for Eragon. She killed four more soldiers in her frantic running through the halls. Finally she came to a long hallway that sat at the bottom of some stairs. A group of soldiers was being attacked by something. They were running down the hall, two men fired arrows at the unseen enemy. The first in the group didn't even notice Arya until she hamstrung him and killed the man beside him.

She used magic to fight and kill two more but the other six had turned and began charging her, deeming her weaker whatever they had been running from. She swung Zar'roc until only three remained, one of the men suddenly shouted something to the others, who then turned around to look.

A tall slim man shuffled through a doorway, bloodstained rags hung from a skeletal frame. His torso was covered in wounds that slowly leaked blood unto the floor, and a broken steel dagger was clutched in his left hand that was covered in blood as well. But Arya was certain that it wasn't his blood. She could see only a small section of his torso, and that was the part that wasn't covered by his long black hair. He looked up and locked his eyes with Arya's, and she felt her heart jump into her throat.

_It's Eragon!_ She screamed in her head. Then he lifted his hand up and pointed it at the soldiers, and growled three words in the ancient language in a voice so choked from misuse that Arya couldn't understand them.

She understood the result, however, as each of the three soldiers necks snapped backwards with sickening cracks, crumpling where they stood. She gasped.

_This is the elf Brom told me about? He's nothing like the others…_

He turned his intense eyes onto her again and raised his hand to kill her too, without even thinking she shouted.

"Eragon!" at which he paused. The hand holding the knife clenched tighter until Arya heard a snapping sound, the dagger fell in two pieces from his hand.

"How is it you know my name?" his voice was so soft, that Arya was too startled to notice that he was falling until he was almost to the floor. She ran forward to catch him. He was light, almost worriedly so. It was now that she finally got a good look at his back, and she suppressed the urge to vomit, before she could however.

_Arya! _Brom's mental voice shouted, equally as gruff as his physical one. _Have you found Eragon?_

_Yes. He's hurt bad though. I don't think he will last very long. _She waited for a few moments, each as long as a century to her, for Brom to answer.

_Bring him to the surface! We need to get you and him onto Fírnen!_

Arya supported him along the corridors until she was nearly to the door she came through when, with a crash, the door to her right exploded from it's hinges. A tall man walked through dressed all in black with pale skin. Blood-red eyes stared from socekets set deeply into a semi translucent skin. He spoke, and as he did Arya was filled with a sense of dread so primal that she would have run and hid had she been able.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"


	12. Chapter 12

**(A/N: Quick fight with Durza, and to all who were wondering, yes the man who paralyzed Arya was Murtagh. Don't ask why, because I honestly have no idea! :p Sorry about not posting in a while, just…*sigh* lot of shit happening in my life right now. But don't worry, I will always make chapters for this. Also contending with writers block!)**

The tall dark figure sent shivers down Arya's spine as she tried to determine who he was. His face took on a bored expression as he sighed deeply.

"You naughty boy," Arya's blood froze in her veins at the sound of his voice. "you were escaping!" His shouting scared her so severely that it broke the frozen feeling in her blood. She was startled to feel the man in her arms stir.

"Durza…" Eragon whispered to her, "Shade…"

Arya's heart stopped beating. _A Shade! _

Soldiers ran into the small space of the hallway and Arya thought she would be safe, as soldiers are under oath to attack Shades on sight, and her heart stopped again when instead the captain asked.

"My lord?" those two words seemed to sentence Arya to death in that instant. She couldn't ever hold up to this many men, let alone a Shade! Despite this she stood straight and slumping Eragon against the wall, she drew Zar'roc. Bringing the blood-red steel above her head and bringing it into her battle stance she stood defiantly against the soldiers and Durza.

The Shade laughed. The soldiers laughed. Their echoes made it seem like the very keep was laughing. Arya stood still as the human captain began to insult her.

"A woman! No a girl!" he guffawed and his men laughed louder, until Arya dove forward and stabbed him through the heart, silencing his laughter, and the men's. She withdrew Zar'roc with a _squelch _and the man fell, his men surging forward to kill her. She cut down, with magic and sword, over twelve men. Then the Shade commanded them to stop, his hand raised. A blast of ruby energy flew at Arya, she sidestepped the attack only to find the Shade within an inch of her in seconds. He swung his slim sword through the air, as their two swords clashed, Arya's arm went numb and fear filled her heart.

_Blast! He's strong! _A menacing smile etched the Shade's lips, and he attacked again. Spinning his sword in a high ark and bringing it down to come on her shoulder, Arya slipped out of the way, but only just as the Shade's sword sliced a chuck of her hair away. She dove forward and was about to strike him in the knee, when her vision was blotted out by pale flesh.

The backhanded strike sent her careening into a door, shattering the oak wood. Arya lay on her back and coughed tasting blood.

"Pathetic," the Shade sneered, revealing his pointed teeth in a sinister smirk. "Humans are always so…fragile. So easily broken, like a twig."

Arya stood her ribs ached and she was pretty sure her left wrist was broken. She tasted blood whenever she breathed, and Zar'roc hung loosely in her right hand. The Shade smiled again when she was before him, he readied another blow that would have killed her had it connected.

But something crashed through the next door over and the small figure held its pale hand up. Silence prevailed in the hallway as the Shade clutched his hand, which held a bright steel dagger embedded in the flesh of the palm, which had been thrown over its chest, where the heart would have been. Arya trembled as anger truly flared in the monster's blood-red eyes, and a scream if pure hatred and malice echoed in the confined castle halls. The Shade rushed forward his sword extended as a spear, and the figure was struck. A single sound echoed in the now silenced hall; the _thud_ of steel piercing flesh. Arya watched in seemingly slow motion as Calón turned as he fell before her. A hand wrenching the blade from his gut he turned and reached out to Arya, his lips slowly forming the shapes of words.

Arya found herself outside the fortress in the streets of the town, an unconscious Eragon in her arms. The moonlight streamed through clouds and smoke alike with an eerie presence and she could feel the bloodlust in the air.

_Arya! _Fírnen's deep mental voice echoed through her silent mind, _Are you hurt? What happened in the castle? _He quickly sorted through her memories and snarled menacingly.

_Shade…I will rip his limbs form his body, no! I will roast him alive with fire!_

_ Enough, Fírnen…enough…_ She blinked back a sense of exhaustion, she was so tired, and so very weak that when she fell, she couldn't stop herself. Instead she found herself in the strong arms of a man, as she forced her eyes open, she couldn't see anymore a black curtain had fallen across her face. She smiled and softly whispered

"Eragon,"

**(A/N: Okay, sorry about the really short lame ass chapter, but I honestly couldn't throw anymore into this one. I promise that some of you will like the next chapter and some of you wont. Also if there is anyone willing to help me out when I have writers block like this again, please send me a PM. I would really appreciate it and I really hope someone comes through soon, anyway thank you for reading my story and I will try to have the next chapter done when I can. Lots of love, Burnedwillow16.)**


	13. Chapter 13

**(A/N: Now for the climax of this part of the book, in my own way. Have fun!)**

Arya felt Eragon's skin against her arm as he helped her stand up. She smiled shyly and thanked him, his face remained emotionless as he slumped backward, his intense brown eyes focused on something behind her. A slight smirk colored his expression as Brom spoke, his deep voice caused Arya to smile slightly as well.

"Well, it's about damn time you got back here." Arya turned and ran to him, Zar'roc held at the ready. "Don't bother with that, the men out here are dead. Elves are notoriously vicious in combat." He added with a dry sneer, his gaze flitted to Eragon, and he smiled.

"Well, well, how long has it been Eragon?" he chuckled. "Ten years? Fifteen?"

"Twenty," Eragon answered, his voice wavering on the brink of a pained cry. "twenty years since we've been in the same region of Alagaesia, let alone within twelve paces of one another." He winced as he coughed again, his blood stained his palm. They made their way to the castle's courtyard and as they got there, Brom looked around seemingly confused at the empty place. Arya could hear Fírnen's wing beats over the crackling of the flames, but only barely.

"The elves should be here, where are they?"

Arya turned at the sound of footsteps, readying her sword as much as she could with Eragon on her shoulder again.

The elves ran towards them, Thürin ran ahead of the others to Arya and Eragon's side. The others fell in step beside him, their weapons poised and their eyes searching.

"Könungru," the tall elf spoke the word with concern evident in his tone and facial expression. "Eru ono vandr?"

Before anyone could answer him, a group of soldiers rushed into the courtyard, and charged the group. Arya swung Zar'roc in an arc and cut a man from color to hip, spinning around she hamstrung another finishing him a second later. She noticed it was her and Brom doing most of the fighting, the elves holding back to protect Eragon, killing only those who came within ten feet of him. Arya and Brom danced through the men leaving a sheet of crimson behind them. Arya sighed and allowed Zar'roc to fall for a few moments as she noticed the remaining men were more cautious. She counted their numbers quickly and smiled smugly.

_Only a dozen or so. _She told Fírnen, who now rested on the battlements of a tower. _We only have to kill a few more…_ She was tired, so very tired of the fighting, and again she was assaulted by Calón's dying grimace. She shivered at the memory, and snapped her sword to the ready.

The captain of the remaining men lifted his sword to signal the charge and began to shout the order, when he screamed. His men turned to him and saw what had caused him to issue the cry, and froze in their tracks.

Their captain was being lifted in the air by his throat. An enormous man in fierce black armor held him, his helmet obscured his face, all but his blood red eyes. The eyes seemed to glow with a bloodlust Arya had never seen before. A shuffle of movement and light drew Arya's eyes to the balcony behind the men.

A lone small figure stood high above the Empire's soldiers, the person's eyes shone in the light from a single torch, turning the grey to a ruddy, fiery, silver. The person spoke in a voice clear and beautiful as crystal, but rougher and more commanding than a whip. Arya turned to notice that the big man hadn't moved at all, he seemed to be waiting.

"Rider," She addressed Arya. "you resist in vain, we will defeat you. My servant there," she indicated the man holding the captain, "needs but a single word and he will kill you and your friends."

Brom bristled and held his sword tighter, Arya was only vaguely aware of Thürin beside her, his swords drawn as well.

"Join the Black King and live at his side, serve his will and he will grant you and your friends life." Her eyes hardened becoming steel colored in the firelight. "If you continue to resist I wont allow him to show mercy!"

Arya held her sword higher than she thought her arms could support.

"Until my last dying breath I will resist the king! That snake betrayed the old Riders, what makes you think that I, the first Rider in over a hundred years, would ever serve him?"

A sound erupted from the woman on the balcony, like the tolling of sliver bells, like bubbling rivers, and like the singing of birds. She was laughing, and the sound was more mocking than pleasant.

"You really are naïve, foolish peasant girl. Very well," She looked from Arya to the hulking man who still held the captain by his throat, and she smiled sweetly. "Shaytan, search and destroy."

The captain suddenly screamed and struggled again, until he fell from the man's grip, his throat missing. The soldiers froze again at the sight, so deep was their shock that it was not until the hulking man had ripped the claymore off his back did they panic.

He dove forward with a speed contradictive of his size, and clove two men in half with a single one-handed swing. Grabbing another man's sword with his bare hand, he broke it in two like a twig. Using the part he still held in his hand he gouged the unfortunate man's eye out. He swung again with his sword cutting a man in half from shoulder to ribcage.

After less than a minute the men all laid dead on the sandy ground of the courtyard, the monstrous man turned to Arya's group. Arya felt Brom flinch, and Thürin's muscles clenched in preparation for the fight. Arya could feel a sliver of cold fear settle in her stomach as the man's eyes fell onto hers, and stayed there.

For a second the whole world seemed to stop moving, and Arya slowly shifted her gaze to the woman above the monstrous man, but she was gone. Her head snapped to Brom to ask if he saw her leave, when she heard Shaytan shift.

Throwing her sword up she barely stopped a monumental swing from slicing her down the middle.

_Fírnen! _She called in her mind, _Help me, lend me your strength!_

But she ran into a barrier when she tried touching the dragon's mind. She couldn't focus clearly on it as Shaytan swung his sword in a whirlwind of steel. Arya felt her arm ache from when the Shade and her dueled and she realized that like then, she was completely outmatched by this hulking monster. With every swing he seemed to growl at whomever he swung at, herself, Brom, Thürin, and the other elves were all fighting him at once. Yet he seemed not to notice, even when Brom slashed his left arm deeply, he didn't even flinch. No blood issued from the wound, nor did it remain gashed. Arya watched the flesh knit back together in a mixture of horror and fascination,

_Blast! What is he!_? Her body ached from blocking his attacks, and her arms felt like lead at her sides. Zar'roc felt heavier than it ever had in her hand. _He's so strong…I don't know if we can fight him…_

Suddenly she felt an idea form in her head, she smirked. She dashed backwards and Brom took over with Thürin.

_I can do that… _

She focused her mind, clearing it to the utmost of her abilities, and found the little node in the back of her mind. She took a deep breath and charged Shaytan head on, screaming one word she flung her hand in front of her.

"Brisngr!" A blast of viridian green flame exploded from her palm at the hulking man. She watched in slow motion as the fire smashed into his side as he made to swing at Brom. The flame burned for a moment before winking out of existence, Arya's blood froze, and her heart stopped.

"Magic…magic…wont work…" the fatigue and exhaustion overwhelmed her in an instant. She fell into a pair of arms that closed around her protectively, her vision again was blocked by a sheet of midnight black hair. She could hear Thürin shouting a warning.

"Keep your distance, Könungru. The creature is not human!" Arya could hear the chest behind her vibrate as Eragon chuckled.

"I know Thürin, I've seen this man's bad side." Eragon smirked. Everything paused, including the hulking Shaytan, as a loud vibration racked the air around them. Arya could feel her whole skeleton vibrate and her ribcage ached.

_Thud. _The sound stopped everything, like it stopped time itself.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _Arya caught a glimpse of silver through the smoke, she could feel Eragon stiffen behind her in fear as a strange sound tore through the still vibrating air. A roar.

The smoke cleared as a blast of air reached the group, and the smell of fear filled the entire fortress.

The girl from before filled the space formally occupied by the smoke. She sat upon a slivery-white dragon. The creature was twice again the size of Fírnen, it's claws were as thick around as young oak trees, and the wings cleared an area of smoke the size of her house in Carvahall every time they flapped. A sound like boulders filled the air, Arya suddenly realized that the dragon was laughing. Fear clutched the entire group and even the elves were speechless.

"So naïve, you stupid little peasant girl. 'the first human Rider'?"


	14. Author Note

Hey everyone so this page is to explain some of my characters in greater detail, although I'm not really sure how effective this will be…anyway if you guys find this helpful all the better. OCC's included later. I suppose some of these will slightly be spoilers for my story, but only in small parts.

**Empire:**

Selene  
Race: Human  
A member of a tribe of people that live on the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden, her and her people were a threat to Galbatorix, so he ordered the Forsworn to destroy them. One of them found a newborn child, and he raised it. Naming her Selene for her eyes, which reminded him of moonlight. She has dark red hair. She became a Rider at the age of twelve and was trained by Galbatorix himself after the death of her adoptive father. Her dragon is silvery-white and is named Iridiea. She fights with two short swords that Shaytan carries for her when she's not fighting.

Shaytan  
Race: Human(former), Shahkulu(current)  
Shaytan was the name given to the guardian of Selene, by her adoptive father. Shaytan cannot remember anything from his former life, and cannot speak. His eyes are blood-red, no other part of his face is visible due to his blank faceless metal mask he wears. He fights with a huge black steel claymore. A Shahkulu is an ancient creature created from the remains of someone close to the creator.

Byron  
Race: Human  
A member of Galbatorix's Forsworn and Selene's adoptive father. He had Shaytan created to protect Selene even after he died. He was killed by Brom. (Remeber the Oromis says that Brom killed many of the Forsworn.

**Elves:**

Thürin  
Race: Elf  
The commander of the elf force sent to retrieve Eragon and Fírnen's egg. He is tall with hair that's darker than night, and has eyes the color of silver. He has one long slender scar under his left eye. He is a veteran of war, and was on the field when the last elven king, Evandar, lost his life fighting the Forsworn.

Telrúnya  
Race: Elf  
One of the elves that Thürin commands and an acomplished archer. She is a hermit-like elf, living alone and singing to the plants and animals. She, like the other elves, only cares about rescuing Eragon and seems to believe Arya will slow that goal down, so goes out of her way to avoid contact with Arya.

Melriel  
Race: Elf  
One of the elves that Thürin commands, she sings to animals and fights with a spear. She has an animal companion: a blue she-wolf named Thiebel. Her hair is dark as midnight and her eyes are the color of new pine needles (very bright green). She talks with Arya and speaks about the others, but rarely about herself.

Calón  
Race: Elf  
A strange elf who follows Thürin out of a sense of duty and pride rather than want to save Eragon. He is the groups strongest spellweaver but is a mute. He cast magic through his mind, not spoken. He is presumably killed by Durza.

**OCC**

Arya  
Race: Human  
To get a feel of what Arya is like, she's basically a female Eragon with a few parts of her elf personality. She has Firnen and is mentored by Brom. SO other than a few things she is the same as Eragon in the books.

Eragon  
Race: Elf  
My version of Eragon is an elf and the prince of all the elves. He has the typical elven personality mixed with a few of his own quirks. He's impassive and uncaring about many things, or rather he doesn't show his emotions very often. He is basically a male version of Arya mixed with a bit of his personality from the books.

Brom  
Race: Human  
The same as in the books.

Murtagh  
Race: Human  
In my story Murtagh and Selene (my oc not Selena) are the leaders of the Black Hand. Murtagh and her are in a relationship with each other. Murtagh is still a Rider, although when he gets the egg to hatch is still up for debate.


	15. Chapter 14

Arya paled at the sight of the dragon, the girl was a Rider? How was that possible? How many eggs did Galbatorix have? How many had he gotten to hatch? These questions and more rolled through her head when she heard Firnen roar a challenge to the white dragon. The monster roared back with a volume that shattered stone. A high-pitched, childish laugh echoed in the night.

"Seems your dragon has backbone enough for the whole of your little group, he challenges us." Her sneer was evident, as she laughed again. "You're all spineless weaklings, and none of you will survive this night!"

She raised her hand above her head and shouted words in the ancient language that Arya could grasp the meaning of at first, then as the ground began to shake, she shouted a warning, and the party dispersed

Eragon leapt away with her in his arms, as he landed she could feel his body slightly give and he growled softly in pain. Arya saw the ground crack open were she and Eragon had been standing, and a hole appeared in the ground. With no seen command the white dragon landed on the tower opposite Firnen. The dragon's weight forced the stones of the tower to press together and several groaned from the strain, Arya even heard some stones crack.

Firnen roared again at the white dragon and reared onto his hind legs, his wings splayed, and scales sparkling like a thousand emeralds in the firelight. The white dragon and Rider retorted with a roar of their own again. The scratching of steel filled the air as the Rider pulled two swords from her saddle. A fierce toothy grin spread across her face as her grey eyes focused on Arya.

The Rider jumped from her saddle and dropped to the ground a hundred feet below. Landing she sprung towards Arya, her swords stretched out to either side. Brom was the first to react to the charge and stepped between them, holding his sword at the ready. The woman smashed against Brom with force enough to knock him back slightly. Brom pushed against the blades _hard_ and the girl fell back.

Arya lost sight of the fight as the elves converged around Eragon, who held to her tightly, protectively.

_Arya!_

Firnen's voice rang loudly in her head, concern and fear emanated from him through their mental link. _Arya, we need to fight her!_

_We can't Firnen, she'll destroy us...we're not strong enough..._

It was now that a new voice entered her mind,

_Arya,_

Eragon's mental voice was melodiously deep, it echoed in Arya's head like a bubbling creek. She sighed as she heard a hint of a light breeze in his tone, and suddenly Arya was very warm. _Can you hear me?_

"Yes." Arya said out loud. Eragon shushed her.

_Speak mentally._

He waited for her acknowledgement, and recieved it. _You need to run! Fly away on Firnen. _

No! I can't leave you guys to this! I can't do that!

_ARYA!_

Brom's voice entered her head as well, shouting to be heard. _Listen to him, go with Eragon to the Elves, leave us! You're too important to risk here!_

Arya pushed Eragon aside to see that Brom had the woman on the ropes, to her immensely apparent displeasure. The woman screamed and threw herself at Brom again and again, and he continued to deflect her.

A booming sound sounded in the courtyard, and everyone turned to see the cause.

A group of soldiers erupted from the double doors, their weapons drawn, their shields held high in front of them. At their head stood a warrior garbed in black armor, a silver ribbon held in his right hand.

**(A/N:Yeah, so...HUGE writers block, and but I finally got enough together to make a shortish chaptet. Sorry everyone. I'll try to post, but I doubt I'll have time this summer at all, I gotta work and I just got my license so I'm running errands all the time. You know how that goes. Anyway thank you for everyone who takes time out of their day to read my story here. I will have more, just probably not for a while.)**


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